


No Longer a Maid

by Bellatrix_Wannabe_89



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Not Suitable/Safe For Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 10:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89/pseuds/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89
Summary: On the eve of battle Jaime asks Brienne to become his wife. The Septon said his words, oaths of love were swore, cloaks and kisses were exchanged, and now it was time for the newly made Lady of Casterly Rock to face her greatest fear; her wedding night.





	No Longer a Maid

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written before the knighting scene and it was already halfway done so to add in that scene would have just been too much to edit and take too much time to change (even if that’s my favorite Braime scene to date and one of my favorite GoT scenes period to date) because I really wanted this uploaded before the Battle of Winterfell. I hope you enjoy it anyway ❤️

Brienne was nervous. 

She had gone up against men who boasted about their superior swordsmanship and fighting abilities and not broken a sweat. She had gone one on two, one on three, even one on four and still emerged victorious and never once did her heart rate rise above what was considered normal for a person of her size.

Now though; as she waited in the Lords Chambers of Winterfell, which Jon Snow had so graciously allowed her and her new husband to use, sweat drenched the blonde from head to toe and her heart was slamming so hard against her ribs she thought for sure she was about to collapse.

_ I would be the only bride in history to lose consciousness on my wedding night,  _ she thought to herself, the image of Jaime finding her passed out on the floor embarrassing her to the point it was making her nauseous.

The wedding had been a small affair; far less intimate and lavish than what the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Maid of Tarth would have had under normal circumstances. But these weren’t normal circumstances; these were circumstances so far from normal Brienne wasn’t sure what to call it. 

Bran told them the Night King and his army was only three days march from Winterfell. That had been this morning. It was now night and a violent storm was raging and howling outside and they had only two and a half days left before the fate of all mankind was decided on how well the living could fight against the dead…

It wasn’t even half an hour after Bran made the announcement that Jaime found Brienne in the courtyard  and got to his knee, offered her a ring made out of chainmail that the blacksmith had made in thirty seconds and asked for her hand in marriage.

For a moment Brienne was sure that there would be snickers and laughter from the bystanders and the man on his knee. She thought that this was all some mean jape at her expense, a far crueler reenactment of the great ‘joke’ all the boys played on her at the ball her father threw. 

But it was so silent in the courtyard you could hear a pin drop and no one, least of all Jaime Lannister, was laughing at her. Then, slowly, she nodded and there was an explosion of noise but not at all what she expected.

There was no laughter or sniggering; just cheering as Jaime lept from the ground, threw his arms around her and with a smile as large and grand as The Wall itself placed the ring on her finger.

Sansa offered to make Brienne a dress for the occasion but she declined. Not only would there not be enough time to create something that would fit the towering woman, but she wanted to walk down the aisle dressed in the armor Jaime had made special for her with Oathkeeper at her side and Widow's Wail at his, two swords made from the same piece of steel coming together as one, just as they would be. 

She did however accept a ocean-blue cloak with the crescent moons and suns of Tarth stitched on for her maidens cloak and Jaime had borrowed a Lannister bridal cloak from one of the lesser Lannister nobles who defied Cersei and came up from the Westerlands to help defend Westeros against the dead.

The ceremony was small. Only Tryion, Sansa, Arya, Jon, Pod (who would walk her down the aisle) a few Northern and Lannister lords and ladies and a Septon who rode up from Highgarden would be in attendance. It would take place in the Winterfell courtyard, a cold drab dreary place far unlike the white sandy beaches of Tarth or in the foothills of the crimson colored mountain ranges of Casterly Rock but in times of war beggars can’t be choosers.

They were bound with a strip of white silk, they gazed into one another’s eyes and said the names of their New Gods; Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger… Jaime told Brienne she was his, and she told him he was hers. From this day, until their last days they would belong to one another.

Their first kiss as husband and wife, and Brienne's first kiss ever not counting the friendly kisses on the cheek from Lord Renly, at the small wooden sept alter that Ned Stark made for his own bride a lifetime ago was soft and gentle and sweet. It was everything she had ever wanted when she was a small girl and still had dreams that a handsome knight in shining armor would look past her awkwardness and less than stunning features and take her away on his white steed where she would live in his castle.

Then when she grew up and thought of herself as the ugliest woman alive, Brienne put aside silly childish notions and preferred to focus her efforts on training with her master of arms rather than spend time daydreaming about gallant princes and knights taking her in their strong arms and kissing her until she was breathless after declaring their never ending love and devotion for her.

But that was exactly what was happening. Not just any knight but THE Jaime Lannister, the handsomest man in Westeros from one of the greatest families in Westeros, the youngest Kingsguard in history, had just pledged his love to Brienne in front of a septon and had his arms wrapped around her with his hands, both flesh and golden, pulling her as close to him as their armor would allow the two newlyweds to be, his scuff pleasantly scratching her face as his lips moved expertly against her trembling ones.

When the two of them finally pulled away to the sounds of clapping from the small invited group, Brienne still thought this would all be some cruel joke until she opened her eyes and saw her lord husband looking at her in such a way that she never thought anyone would ever look at her with; with total love and adoration.

The feast afterwards was far more loud and wild than either the prim Tarth Maid or the Heir to Casterly Rock had ever been too with the entire North it seemed crammed into Winterfells great halls, willing to put their mistrust and dislike of the lion and the woman who helped aid his escape aside in order to drink and laugh and eat and forget their impending doom for just one night.

Jon told them both that this was a proper Northern feast, complete with borrish and improper comments shouted from the Lords and Ladies and commoners of the North that made Brienne blush as scarlet as her bridal cloak.  Tormund, who just hours earlier loudly proclaimed his desire to make ‘giant babies kissed by fire’ with Brienne, and had his outburst rewarded with a few missing teeth courtesy of Jaime’s golden hand cracking him across the mouth, had apparently forgotten all his affections for the newly titled Lady of the Rock and was trying to get close to a rather uncomfortable looking Karstark woman.

When it was time for the bedding ceremony Jaime only had to take one look at his brides terrified expression before he told, not asked, but  **_told_ ** the eager men and women in no uncertain terms that the bedding was being dispersed of and anyone who had words to say about it could take it up with his new bride and her Valyrian sword.

Every step closer to their temporary chambers her heart pounded harder and harder until it was almost painful. The ceremony had been something out of a dream, the feast afterwards had been enjoyable with the conversation and laughter between her and Jaime only stopping between bites of roast boar, boiled turnips and sips of Dornish wine. But the closer she got to the bedroom at the top of the grey drab staircase the more she realized what was supposed to come next, what was expected of her as a woman and now wife…

Before the door shut behind him Brienne asked him in a stuttering voice that did nothing to hide her frayed nerves and fear if it might be possible for him to run back down to the feast and grab a bottle of wine for them to enjoy.

He nodded towards the desk where not one but two bottles of wine and two glasses stood waiting for them. “I believe we already have wine.” 

Jaime’s eyes searched over her expression, watching as her nerves started to fail her and a sweet begin to gather on her brow. He smiled softly at her, the sight so rarely afforded to others sending a flurry of relief throughout her. “But I’m sure that’s just northern swill. How about I go and find us a proper southern wine?”

“Yes. Thank you, Ser- I-, sorry, My Lor-.” Her blue eyes closed as she fought to gather her thoughts. “Jaime.” 

The name felt both familiar and foreign on her tongue; foreign in that this had been the first time she called him his name without his title but also speaking just his name was as easy and familiar as breathing, like his name was meant to be said in her noble accent on its own.  

Another deep breath but this time the name slid off her tongue as sweet as honey. “Thank you, Jaime.”

He reached out and grabbed her shoulders and even through all the armor his touch managed to be somehow be comforting. 

“I’ll take my time coming back.” 

A far cry from the usual promises men and women made to one another before their wedding night, he spoke softly as if the walls itself might hear and mock her for being nervous. Before he left the room he reached out and gave her a short lived kiss that had Brienne lightly touching her lips and wondering if this was just going to be the norm now; soft kisses whenever he left her side? 

Could she really be that lucky?

The moment the door latched behind him, Brienne undid her armor, flinching when it fell to the stone floor with a crash. The fire was roaring to keep back the wintery cold but somehow she was chilled to the bone as she stood there in her plain black breeches and a dark blue mail.

Should she remove that as well or would he want to do that? It took two strong hands to lace it up but then again Jaime did have experience undressing women with one hand. But that was velvet dresses and silk skirts, not chainmail that had been designed to stay laced up tight during battle.

Her hands fumbled as she went to pulling off the mail and dropped it to the floor along with her breeches, leaving her only in a loose fitting pale blue shirt that fell just below the curve of her backside and dipped just so a hint of scars from her experience in the Bearpit peeked over it. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she could ward off the sudden chill that threatened to overwhelm her.

What if Jaime changed his mind? What if he didn’t want her in the ways a groom should want his bride and the rest of her life was trapped in an unconsummated unhappy marriage? What if this was all some elaborate prank, what if he regretted their admittedly hasty decision to marry on the eve of battle, what if, what if, what if…

She had to sit down less she was going to collapse. As Brienne sat on the edge of the bed she caught a glimpse of herself in the window. Big-lipped, thick of jaw, only a small slight curve to her hips and breasts, broad shoulders and looming with short blonde hair, not the exotic silver of the Targaryens or the golden sunshine of the Lannister’s but an unattractive pale straw color, her features without the stunning beauty that a noble woman such as herself should possess. 

Tears filled her big blue eyes as she looked at her reflection. How on earth would, or could, a man like Jaime Lannister desire her? No one apart from Renly had ever given her a look that wasn’t full of disgust or astonishment and here was the handsomest knight in the Seven Kingdoms claiming he wanted to be with ‘Brienne the Beauty’ for the rest of his life.

It made no sense. It had to be a joke, it had to be some cheap entertainment for the men to snicker at.

This was a mistake.

She scurried off the bed and went over to where she discarded her breeches and pulled them back up.

“My lady?”

Brienne whipped towards the door and saw Jaime, now only in a crimson shirt and leather trousers, his borrowed northern armor nowhere to be found, standing in the entryway with a bottle of wine with Dornish markings on the label.

He shut the door behind him. “Usually a bride is eager to get her clothes  _ off _ rather than back on…”

The implication made her blush. “This was a mistake,” she muttered to herself before she spoke aloud. “I-... is this a joke?”

Jaime blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Is this a joke? Is this all some cruel prank meant to amuse you?”

Even as the words came tumbling out of her mouth she felt guilty and wrong for voicing her fears.  Jaime wouldn’t hurt her like that, not like all the others had.

The pain that flashed in his eyes made her regret ever thinking he could be that terrible. “You think I married you for amusement? Do you really think that little of me?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I just… I don’t understand. We… this kind of thing doesn’t happen to me and it all happened so  _ fast _ , I-... Men don’t  _ want _ to be with me.”

He came closer to her, shorter than the Maid by a few inches. “Well it’s a good thing there are no other men like me.” 

Jaime was now standing right in front of her and, without warning, grabbed her hand, a rough calloused warriors hand rather than the soft lotioned one of the Queens, and placed it over his heart. The simple touch sent shockwaves of feelings she never had before racing through her and made gooseflesh raise on her arms.

“It’s yours.” She looked into his eyes and saw the same truth and honesty he spoke to her with in Harrenhal when he finally told someone about Aerys along with a spark of something no man had ever looked at her with. “It will always be yours.”

Another step closer to his lady. His well built chest was pressing up against her small curved breasts and his golden hand rested on the small of her back while his left snaked around her neck. 

“Believe it or not I’m almost as nervous as you.” He said it with such a shyness one might have mistaken him for a blushing maid as his fingers lightly fingered the her short blonde locks. “I’ve never been with anyone else except Cersei,” Jaime admitted; a truth Brienne was already well aware of but there was no shame in his eyes nor any disgust or judgement in hers.

_ You don’t choose who you love _ , Jaime told her once. Rather that was Renly loving Ser Loras, the children of the great Tywin Lannister loving one another or the handsomest knight in the seven kingdoms loving the ugliest woman in Westeros his words rang true.

“I’m used to what she wanted, what she desired... So I need you to tell me what you’re enjoying, what you aren’t…” He kissed her so soft and sweet she barely felt his lips on hers. “Where you want me to touch you, if you want me to stop… can you trust me enough to do that?”

Brienne nodded, eagerness slowly starting to replace her fear when Jaime’s lips pressed up against hers again. It started out soft and gentle as butterfly wings it grew into something moist and hot and breathy, more eager, enticing and wanting.

Brienne draped her arms around his neck while he pressed himself up against her body, leaving not an inch of space between them for even the Gods. The heat rose in her cheeks as his tongue touched hers for the first time, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined, more curious about the heat that lay within. After a moment she made her lips work against his, tasting her sweet as Dornish Wine knight for the first time.

When his hand slid down and pawed at her ass she moaned into his mouth, a sound that, she assumed, he must have liked because he wasted no time in squeezing her flesh tighter and bringing forth that glorious sound from her lips again.

“Jaime…” she breathed before her lips mashed against his, as if trying to flatten and destroy his mouth. He hungrily pushed back, her mouth open, tongue pushing past her teeth to the moist space within. The bristle of his beard scratched pleasantly against her as she gripped his head firmly, as if to keep him from escaping. 

She didn’t even realize the two of them were walking towards the bed until the back of her knees hit the mattress. Her heart pounded as the two of them fell into an ocean of fur blankets and fresh sheets, his lips never leaving hers as he captured her lips in kiss after kiss, his tongue pressing together and dancing with hers as the two of them climbed further up on the bed so their legs weren’t dangling off.

He pulled away from the kiss but before she could form too much of a protest his lips were on her neck and traveling up to that sensitive bit of skin right behind her ear.

She shuddered as he sucked and lightly nipped at her pulse point, sending shockwaves of feelings she never felt before throughout her, nor had she thought a spot behind her ear of all places could give her feelings much further south. Brienne gripped his arms and pulled him tighter against him, her nails digging into his flesh but he didn’t seem to mind. 

On the contrary; rather than relent or tell her to ease up on her grip Jaime increased the fouriousity of his kisses, flicking his tongue rapidly against that bit of skin that was creating a stirring wet feeling between her mile long legs.

Jaime was still on the side of her, their limbs untangled as he kissed her but a fleeting thought crossed her mind and it brought a crimson blush to her skin even though, she realized as she moaned his name again while he nibbled on her ear, that she should be having these thoughts about her lord husband.

And this particular thought was she desperately wanted him lying between her legs…

Her hands gripped at the crimson shirt and untucked it from his trousers, kneeling his back with her fingers. Sensing her intention, Jaime sat up and pulled the fabric up and over his head with his brides assistance. Her blue eyes and calloused hands wandered over his chest; strong and decorated with the scars of battle and tourneys over the years, similar to the artwork of markings on Brienne's body.

His hand moved lower to the hem of her shirt, and she felt his fingers on her skin, sending jolts through her body.   
"May I, My Lady?" Jaime asked as soft as a spring rain. Brienne drew her lip into her teeth, a blush rising to her cheeks while she urged her heart to stop slamming against her ribs sure he could feel it.

Jaime leaned down and kissed that spot behind her ear once more. “We don’t have to,” he whispered. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Brienne.”

A hard swallow pained her throat. She took a deep breath and then, closing her so she wouldn’t see his reaction less it was something out one of her nightmares that ended first with Renly then with Jaime looking at her naked body in disgust before storming away, leaving Brienne alone in the dark, grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it off her, tossing it aside. 

It took all her effort to keep her breath even as she laid there, eyes clenched shut, hands curled into a tight fist as she waited him to get up and walk out or kiss her or curse her or SOMETHING…

Finally something did happen. He said a single word that had only been used in jest and said with a sneer before now.

“Beautiful.”

Her body was littered with scars including the four huge deep thick marks from the assault in the bear pit. She had far too many pronounced muscles than a highborn lady should ever possess, small breasts, boyish hips, her short straw colored hair was disheveled… There was nothing about her that someone should have ever wanted in a woman but here was Jaime, eyeing her lack of curves and her rectangular shape with awe and love and with a look of lust that she always thought was reserved for the likes of Sansa Stark and Daenerys Targaryen.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jaime breathed, as if he could hardly believe he had the right or privilege to be the only man to look at the body beneath the armor and mail she often wore.

He couldn't help himself. He bent down and immediately took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Brienne cried out and arched off the bed, grabbing at his freeing hair with both hands and giving it a slight tug, not because she wanted him to stop but the feel of running her fingers through his hair was too tempting to resist. 

She panted from his attention as he continued his ministrations. When her left breast had been teased to a taut peak, he switched to the right, giving it the same, loving attention. Jaime  reached between his own legs and adjusted the painful erection growing there, freeing himself from the constraints of his britches. 

He took one of her hands and placed it on top of him. Brienne blushed a violent crimson red as blood and her mouth and throat went as dry as a Dornish desert, but she didn't pull away. 

Rub it," he said, without shifting attention from her chest. She started with hesitant jerky movements but eventually evened herself out to a pace that left him groaning loudly and rolling his hips. He grew hard and smooth in her rough hand, and Jaime wondered at how her hand could be so unlike a maids but her touch was gentler and softer than Cersei’s ever was. 

His hand went to the front of her breeches and disappeared inside the black leather where his fingers began combing through her light colored curls, slowly rubbing her between her legs where no one, not even her own hand, had ever ventured.

She bit her lip as he rubbed her soft warm flesh. It felt good, but her body was screaming for his touch half a fingernails length away. She remembered the promise she made to him; that she would tell him where to touch her. But had he truly meant it?

Septa Roelle told her growing up that intimate relations was something a man did to a woman to create an heir, nothing more, certainly not with someone as homely as Brienne. Her pleasure didn’t matter, her wants or desires didn’t matter. She should be grateful Jaime didn’t just start jamming it in like he was spearing a pig without a second thought to her pleasure or wants.

_ No _ , Brienne told herself firmly as she moved her hand from his arm to his wrist and shifted it over to where Brienne knew she needed his touch, the hard calloused fingers rubbing right where she needed him.  _ He cares about me, he wants- _ .

She couldn’t finish her own thoughts because suddenly there he was; her knight was touching her in a way she always thought would be confined to her dreams.

“Jaime!” Brienne gasped, her hips bucking against his hand as his finger encircled her clit. Her blue eyes closed and her fist clenched as he touched her, slowly letting his calloused fingers drag over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He kissed along her jawline to her neck, feeling her twist her fingers into claws that dug into his back when he reached a certain point at the nape of her neck.

His fingers found her entrance and, as slow and gentle as he could, slipped a finger inside her.  Brienne bit her lip and as he slowly began the motions of moving in and out of her, going slow and gentle and soft, drawing slick moisture from her. She whimpered when he added another finger and a touch of more speed, stretching her just so and all the while his lips were pressed against hers, moving his tongue in time with his fingers twisted and danced within her. 

Brienne wrapped her long legs around him, pulling him in tighter. Her feet had managed to lower his trousers around his thighs so he finished, pulling them off completely so that he might have freer movement with Brienne following his lead and slipped her own breeches off as well.

Jaime laid on top of her and Brienne began to tremble when she felt his manhood hard between her legs, her slickness growing as he rolled his hips and pressed up against her.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, his own voice shaking as he laid on top of her. She didn’t want to stammer so rather than try to speak she just nodded, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer to her, her short nails raking over his flesh. Jaime reached between them, positioning himself between her wet southern lips.

He paused at the slick entrance and green eyes found blue, asking silent permission to have the honor of being the one to take her maidenhood. Her body trembled and her tongue still wouldn’t cooperate so she nodded, clutching at him as if to brace herself.

Slowly, and with as much gentle as a man could possess, he slid himself into her. Brienne whimpered and gasped as he filled her and stretched her for the first time. Her eyes closed and she threw her head back as he pushed in, stopping a little more than a quarter of the in to give her a moment of reprieve.

“Are you alright?” he asked, panting. Brienne didn’t answer for a moment as she laid there, grabbing onto him as if she was afraid he would fly away and she might never see him again. She had been punched, cut with swords, kicked, tossed around in tournaments and fights… she even fell off a horse when she was seven, and all of those were painful incidents but this was a different kind of pain.

This was a woman’s pain; one she knew was hiding the pleasure that came from having the man she loved inside her just beneath the surface. Brienne licked her lips and nodded, keeping her eyes shut tight.

Jaime kissed her as he slid in even further and paused, running his hand through her short hair and kissing her jaw, her neck, behind her ear, anywhere his lips could reach, making her even more slick and, slowly, the pain began to recede replaced by the best kind of pleasure a Lord could give his Lady. 

Jaime pulled out almost to the head and slid back in, starting a slow steady rhythm that instinct almost compelled her to march, rolling her hips and pushing up to take even more of him.

“Jaime…” Brienne whimpered breathlessly, her nails digging into his back, pulling him further into her. “Jaime…” 

“What do you need?” He whispered his words into her ear, his voice shaking. “What do you need, My Lady?”

“You.”

Jaime smiled at her, a real genuine soft admiring look, not a sneering smirk that seemed to be his House’s trademark, before he attacked her soft lips with his and began a slow gentle pattern of strokes in and out, in and out, kissing her and tasting her all the while. Brienne wrapped her legs around him as he moved inside her far too slow and far too soft she realized.

“Harder… Jaime, harder. Harder, Jaime, please…”

She was begging, she realized. Brienne had never begged anyone for anything in her life yet here she was; as naked and as vulnerable and as open as a woman could be with Jaime on top of her and inside her, and she was BEGGING her knight to go faster, go deeper, go harder… 

What had he done to her?

Jaime buried his hand in her pale blonde hair, pulling it back as he gave into her pleas. Brienne whimpered again as his mouth dropped to her neck, sucking and kissing and licking like he was starving and the mere taste of her was enough to satisfy his appetite but at the same time made him even hungrier.

He rocked into her; over and over, again and again, ravaging her, kissing her, fucking her, admiring her,  loving her… Brienne’s cries and grunts and moans echoed like a symphony in his ears, the wet slaps of his body against hers and their names falling from one another’s tongue in was a melody that was far more beautiful than any songs of fair maidens and gallant knights the singers often sang about in court. 

When he was almost on the cusp of release Jaime shifted his body forward, his chest almost in line with her broad shoulders. Brienne opened her mouth to question the sudden change in position when suddenly she felt the reason why; now every time he thrust into her, his shaft rubbed against her clit. 

She gasped, clutching him tight where he was sure she drew blood but that was the last thing on his mind as he hurried his now erratic movements, their climbs mirroring one another until finally they reached their peak together.

Brienne cried his name so loud that the entirety of the north might have heard her but she didn’t care, nor did her lion. Jaime gasped out her name over and over again as he slammed into her, his seed spilling deep inside her. 

Jaime collapsed on top of her, his hips jerking ever so slightly as he spent the last of himself inside of the warmth that he never wanted to leave while he buried his face in the crook of her long neck that was now marked with his bites and kisses and suckles. Both of their breaths were trembling and she had yet to loosen her ironclad grip on him as he softened inside her. 

After a long moment Jaime propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his bride. Her hair was disheveled and the sweat had made her curls far more pronounced than he had ever seen, her face was red with blush and the lust in her eyes had faded away and two astonishing pools of sapphires were staring back at him just as lost in a whirlwind of emotions as he was.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to her before he kissed her again, only pulling away when he was too short of breath to continue.

He finally pulled out of her covered in his seed and her fluids and maidens blood but he didn’t care, nor did she as he wrapped his arms around her. Brienne twisted in his arms so they were staring face to face and she wore a rare smile that only he had the privilege and honor to be able to see.

“I love you, Brienne,” said Jaime, pushing a stray straw colored lock of hair away from her face.

She remembered her mother telling her those words before she passed not even three weeks after Brienne's sixth birthday. Her father told her he loved her often but other than that no one, lest a handsome knight, had ever spoken those words to her without jest. She had dreamed, of course, of Renly taking her in his arms and telling her how much he loved her and how he would take her back to Storm's End to live out their lives together.

Then like all her other dreams, Renly shifted to Jaime. It was Lannister red she was cloaked with rather than the yellow and black of Baratheon, it was soft yellow hair she ran her fingers through rather than course black, it was Casterly Rock rather than Storms End she wanted them to take her away too.

It was now Jaime’s voice she dreamt of whispering those words in her ear only this wasn’t a dream, it was real life. 

Tears rushed to her eyes as she moved closer to him, resting her head against his bare chest while he wrapped his arms around her. 

“I love you too, Jaime,” she whispered against his skin like even the walls of Winterfell had ears and her words were meant only for him.

The two lovers stayed wrapped in one another’s arms for what could have been minutes or hours or days, enjoying the warm comfort of the other. Jaime’s hand danced small patterns across her back, feeling her muscles relax under his touch when Brienne’s voice finally broke the spell in a tragic way.

“Jaime?”

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. He would never tire of hearing his name fall from her lips. 

“Yes, My Lady?”

She tensed under his hand letting him know this wasn’t about to be a declaration of love.

“Should I fall on the battlefield-.”

Jaime shook his head, effectively cutting her off. “That won’t happen.”

“But if it does-.”

“It won’t.”

“Stop and just listen.”

Jaime sighed but nevertheless did as his lady bid him. 

“If I should fall,” she said again, looking at him with large blue eyes. “And come after you, I want you to promise me you’ll fight.”

His face fell as he searched over hers. “Brienne, I-.”

“I don’t want to hurt the people I love.” She swallowed hard as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to die because you didn’t want to fight me.”

He searched over her face, her astonishing blue eyes usually stoic and firm now softer than anyone had the right to be but what clutched  at his heart was the fear in them. It wouldn’t have been obvious to an outsider but to Jaime had seen that look twice before; when she was in the bear pit and when Locke’s men dragged her off and he caught a look of her face in the firelight. That was what had made him defend her, that look of fear in the blonde warriors face, something that he didn’t think she was capable of at that point, showing fear yet she had and that look she wore, along with those ear piercing screams, had made the lion step up and be the man he thought he could no longer be.

The man that Brienne was asking him to be now.

He nodded slowly, not turning away from her eyes. “I will. If it comes to that, I’ll make sure you… I’ll end it if you come after me. If you promise to do the same for me.”

“I will. I promise. You’ll be honorable even in death, I swear it.”

Jaime kissed her slowly and softly, savoring every moment and every sensation; the taste of her, the feel of her bare breasts pressed up against him, the way her fingers were clutching at him like only he could keep her anchored to the earth….

When they pulled apart Brienne rested her head on his chest while his heart played her a melody only she was meant to hear and his arms wrapped tight around her. 

Outside the winter winds roared, and if one listened closely they could hear the haunting song of the dragons; alive and dead alike. But right here, in this moment, neither of them cared. 

They were two newlyweds, a lord and his lady, enjoying what might be their last night on this earth and they were going to enjoy the calm before the storm for as long as they could…

 

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